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All Rise...

Judge Mac McEntire can sum up this entire documentary in one word: Icky.

The Charge

What does it mean to be a photographer?

The Case

With more than 350 books published, Nobuyoshi Araki is one of Japan's most
popular photographers. But considering the overtly pornographic nature of most
of his work, he's also one the country's most notorious photographers. Now,
Tartan Video offers a look at the art and life of this controversial figure.

As a movie/DVD critic, I must attempt some degree of impartiality. If a
filmmaker's message or views do not gel with my own feelings, I must set that
aside. Instead, I look at whether or not the filmmaker is successful in getting
his or her point across, no matter whether or not I agree with it. And yet,
there's no way for me to start discussing Arakimentari other than
revealing just how offensive the movie is.

Araki is not content just to capture nude women on film. Instead, it appears
he is out to humiliate them. Depictions of the female form, both in Araki's work
and in this documentary, are extremely graphic, to the point where it stops
being sexy and becomes very disturbing, if not downright disgusting. The
interviewees here make several very good arguments for Araki's work, explaining
how it tears down the boundaries of censorship and conservative societal taboos,
and that an artist should be free to express him or herself in any way. But
after seeing Araki in action, he doesn't seem interested in any of this.
Instead, he makes raunchy comments about the women as they're undressing in
front of him, and he takes every opportunity he can to fondle their chests or
put his hand between their legs. When flipping through some of his own photos at
home, every time Araki comes across an image of a nude woman, he points to it
and laughs loudly.

The short, bald, and paunchy Araki spends most of the movie wearing a white
tank top with red suspenders, with small round sunglasses that hide his beady
eyes. Perpetually red-faced and sweaty, the two remaining tufts of grey hair on
the side of his head are always stringy and pointed, as if trying to escape from
his brain. Yet despite his slovenly appearance, somehow Araki is always followed
by lovely young ladies in kimonos and gangs of sharp-dressed yes men. I kept
expecting Batman to come crashing through a skylight and haul him off to Arkham
Asylum.

But then, about halfway through the film, we suddenly get a look at the work
that made Araki famous. These photos are not pornographic, but are instead
slice-of-life images of Araki's wife, taken during and just after their
honeymoon. Araki explains that his intent was tell the story of their love,
portraying the emotion through simplistic pictures of her just doing the dishes,
sitting on the patio, or sleeping peacefully. The photos then chronicle her
untimely death, including heartbreaking black-and-white images of her in a
hospital bed, and a close-up of their two hands holding each other, perhaps for
the last time. For a while, the film becomes a tragic love story, ending with
Araki's photos of his wife's cat wandering around their apartment, all alone.
Then, there's a scene showing the present-day Araki in a bar surrounded by his
posse, asking a shy-looking young waitress whether or not she's a virgin; he
laughs in her face when she doesn't immediately answer.

The filmmakers don't hesitate to show off Araki's work, even at its most
pornographic. Like Araki himself, director Travis Klose doesn't seem to care who
he offends. There are extreme close-ups of, uh, female anatomy, as well as
oddball images—nude women painted to look bloody, and photos doctored to
show strange streams of light coming out of their bodies. Notable interviewees,
including filmmaker Takeshi "Beat" Kitano (Dolls), fellow controversial photographer
Richard Kern, and musician/singer/professional weirdo Bjork all heap praise onto
Araki, going on about the groundbreaking nature of his art. Each of these
interviews, however, is spliced together with footage of Araki giggling over his
photos like an 11-year-old showing off a stolen Playboy to his buddies.

Shot on video, picture quality is sharp, with no evident flaws. The sound
comes in DTS, Dolby 5.1, and Dolby 2.0 mixes, all in Japanese. There doesn't
appear to be much difference between the three, although the first two make the
most of the occasional musical montage. The director's commentary goes into
detail about the low-budget day-to-day shooting of the movie. With an almost
non-existent budget and a crew of only five people, it's impressive the final
project is as polished as it is. The "additional footage" is an
extended interview with Araki, where he doesn't appear to take the director's
questions very seriously, and instead indulges in more crass behavior. Also
included are a photo gallery, the trailer, and trailers for other Tartan
releases.

Photography is a mysterious art form. Like all artists, the photographer
creates something out of nothing. But instead of a blank canvas, a block of
clay, or even a bluescreen, the photographer is able to walk into a room and
create a work of art from what's there, just by framing it in a lens. It's an
"either you can do it or you can't" skill. The best photographers can
help us see the world in a new light just by taking the ordinary and making it
exceptional. Does Araki truly have this skill, as museum displays and enormous
book sales would seem to say, or is he just a dirty old man who happened to
strike it big? It's a question intentionally left unanswered and left up to the
viewer to decide.

There's a fascinating documentary hidden somewhere in Arakimentari,
but it's buried under the film's onslaught of bad-taste porn and lewd
behavior.